


Just Too Funky

by LadyRazorsharp



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: F/M, Fashion & Couture, Incognito, Spycraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 05:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRazorsharp/pseuds/LadyRazorsharp
Summary: Originally meant as part of a collection of Virg/Kayo stories, it never got published, to my knowledge. One of my very favorite things I’ve written about Virgil, actually...Penelope asks a favor of Kayo...except Kayo doesn’t know Pen asked one of Virgil first.





	Just Too Funky

Kayo frowns at the holographic image of Lady Penelope floating above her wrist comm. “You want me to do what?” She heard their London agent perfectly the first time, but still, clarification can’t hurt.

“I’d like you to come with me to a fashion show.” Penelope smiles. “It’s London’s Fashion Week, and I have a…” Her gaze slides sideways for a moment. “...contact I need to connect with.” 

“Can I ask why you’re not posing this question to a certain aquanaut?” Kayo asks with a knowing smile. “He’d be there before you finished your sentence.”

It’s hard to tell over a hologram, but Kayo thinks she sees Penelope blush. “This isn’t the sort of thing you bring a date to.”

“Hmm. I see.” The pilot of Thunderbird Shadow is herself well-versed in the art of spycraft, and she knows what Penelope is after. “Much easier to show people what they expect, so they don’t see anything else.”

Penelope nods. “Just so.”

Kayo makes a face. “Don’t suppose I can go as I am,” she fishes, gesturing to her serviceable tee, cargo pants, and waterproof boots.

“I’m afraid not; this particular designer doesn’t go in for the industrial look.” Penelope’s expression turns thoughtful. “Virgil said you have a lovely little black dress that looks positively smashing on you; that’s always appropriate.”

A laugh splutters from Kayo. “Oh, he did, did he?” Now it’s Penelope’s turn to fix Kayo with a look of wicked mischief at their mutual affection for members of the Tracy family. “Unfortunately, that was on loan; I didn’t think I’d have an occasion to wear it again.”

“Too bad. Well, then, come by a day early and we’ll find something suitable for you.”

Kayo raises an eyebrow, unsure if she’s willing to put herself at the mercy of Penelope’s taste, but the cause is a good one. Maybe, she muses, she can even find something that she might have an occasion to wear more than once in the company of one Virgil Tracy. It’s this last thought that seals the deal, and she nods. “All right then. I’ll see you Saturday.”

  
  


The streets of London are tricky at their best, but the ones around the venue for the show look more like a parking lot than actual roadway. Parker is used to this kind of thing, though, and soon they are stopping at a small security gate. The guard only has to glance at the registration plate and then at the small blonde in the back seat before he admits them to the cavernous parking structure. By force of habit, Kayo begins automatically scanning the area for threats and cataloguing the exits, and Penelope must catch the change in Kayo’s body language because she clears her throat pointedly.

“Remember, Kayo: You are here as my guest, and to a point, my cover. I have a perfectly capable bodyguard.”

Kayo sighs. The bulk of her association with Lady Penelope has been in the company of her family, or as one of the voices on the other end of the comm. They’ve never been what Kayo considers ‘friends’, because they don’t have much in common except International Rescue. Still, she likes Penelope and wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. In fact, she muses, as Parker brings the car to a stop, if things keep going like they are between Penelope and that absent aquanaut, Kayo will someday have a sister to go along with her brothers. “Right. Sorry, Parker.”

Parker chuckles. “Quite all right, Miss Kayo. H’old ‘abits die ‘ard, I should know.”

The holographic marquees for the show announce the theme in messy shocking pink letters:  _ The Morning After. _ The press of the crowd is making Kayo jumpy, but she clutches her program and follows doggedly on Penelope’s five-inch heels, glad for the solid presence of Parker at her back. In just a few moments, they are shown to their seats next to the left hand side of the runway, with a cushion for Sherbet at their feet and Parker directly behind Penelope. 

The backdrop in front of the staging area looks like a penthouse after an outrageous party, strewn with empty champagne bottles, sheets, a naked male mannequin wearing a gaudy fringed lampshade on its head, empty boxes from a pizza joint. The lighting is styled to suggest early morning sunlight falling through a high window. The only thing that seems out of place for the aftermath of a drunken bash is the thunderously loud rock music pouring out of the ten-foot-high speakers next to the stage. Kayo’s had to extricate both Virgil and Gordon from such a setting, and from her recollection the near-flammable air is usually deathly quiet, except for the snores emitting from limp bodies in various states of undress.

The decor pulls an ugly memory from a dark, forgotten corner of her brain: Virgil, passed out stark naked on the remains of a once-sumptuous four-poster bed, flanked by two girls just a few years younger than herself. Kayo frowns, wondering if Virgil remembers that morning--or most of the next two years, for that matter.

In the middle of these maudlin thoughts, Kayo’s phone buzzes, and she picks it up to read a text message from the woman sitting beside her.

_ Are you quite all right? _

_ I’m fine,  _ she replies, fully aware that Penelope can see she’s lying, but not really caring at the moment.

_ Chin up. _

With a start, Kayo realizes that the show’s theme must be setting off a nerve in Penelope as well, since Gordon did his own share of partying after his Olympic win. While that was years before the two were involved, the press had had a field day, and a few of the photos were...memorable.

_ You too _ , Kayo sends back.

Soon the show is underway, and although the audience is cheering wildly, Kayo finds that she doesn’t care for the rumpled gowns hanging off the models. The women’s faces are made up with artfully smeared lipstick and rouge, their hair askew, as if they’ve slept in their expensive clothes. The men are wearing slick suits with shirts half-untucked and ties hanging beside their lapels. A few carry their highly polished shoes and walk the runway in wildly patterned socks.

The next model who appears in the doorway looks as if he’s just walked in from a night on the town. His honey-blond hair is disheveled, his jaw sports a smudge of stubble, and his feet are bare. At the runway’s midpoint, he shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over his shoulder, then ambles down to the edge of the runway. Amidst a lightning storm of flashbulbs, the model drops his jacket into the arms of a waiting intern, and then whips off the tie that has been hanging loose around his open collar. He reaches for the buttons of the once-crisp white shirt, and the crowd goes crazy as he strips it off to reveal his incredibly toned chest and abs. 

For a half-naked man, he looks awfully familiar. The realization hits Kayo like a wrecking ball, driving the breath from her in a sudden rush.

It’s  _ Virgil _ .

Besides the hair, which is more like Gordon’s, there is a huge Native American thunderbird tattoo splashed across him from shoulder to waist, following the line where his baldric usually rests. As he gets closer, she can see that his eyes aren’t brown anymore, they’re blue like Scott’s. She’s feeling a bit dizzy as Virgil turns on his heel and stalks back up the runway, the shirt dragging from where it hangs on his fingertips.

Kayo’s phone buzzes and she tears her eyes away from Virgil’s retreating back to read the single word from Penelope:

_ Breathe. _

With a shudder, Kayo fills her lungs with air once more. She fires off an impatient text.  _ What’s going on? _

_ The word of the day is: Distraction. _

After the show, Kayo and Penelope, with Sherbert and Parker in tow, are escorted to an immense room draped in gauzy white and lit with shocking pink floodlights. The walls are shaking with more thunderous music, and the decor continues the theme of a demolished penthouse. This is the afterparty, but Kayo is far from being in a party mood. Penelope, however, seems to be in her element, chatting and giving air kisses and feeding Sherbet bits of salmon from the buffet table. Parker is hovering just out of reach, slipping in and out of the shadows, his eyes missing absolutely nothing. For lack of anything better to do, Kayo settles herself at the table reserved for Lady Penelope and Guest (and dog) and sips at a glass of sparkling water.

Someone taps her on the shoulder, and just in time she reminds herself that she is at a party, not a judo class. Her heart lurches in her chest as she looks up into Virgil’s face, restored to dark hair and eyes. He’s in a beautifully cut tuxedo, and for a moment she is very glad that she took Penelope’s advice to wear a version of her little black dress. He holds a finger to his lips and pulls her up from her chair.

They don’t stop until they’re well into the shadows. The music is at a more tolerable level here, soaked up by the layers of draperies covering the walls, and for a second they just stand with their foreheads together, gathering calm from each other. “I missed you,” he ventures into the bubble of silence between them.

“What are you doing here?” It wasn’t the first thing she wanted to say, but it’s what pops out of her mouth anyway. 

“ _ Me _ , what about  _ you? _ I about fell off the runway when I saw you sitting there.” He gently bumps her forehead with his. “I was working. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

She pulls back to fix him with a confused frown. “For Lady Penelope?”

“I don’t even know half of what’s going on, but she asked me as a favor, and I said yes.” He snorts. “I’m getting the impression that I was acting as a distraction.”

_ The word of the day… _ “I have a feeling you’re right,” Kayo concedes.

“Yeah, well, you know Penelope, international woman of mystery. All she  _ told  _ me was that I’d have to walk down a runway without a shirt on.”

Kayo can’t help but laugh at this. “Well, you certainly did that.” She tugs at his collar. “Nice tat, by the way.”

He grins. “That was fake.”

“Hmm, too bad. I sort of liked it.” She ruffles his hair, and finds that it’s slightly damp. “That was weird. You looked like a mashup of Gordon and Scott.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we decided it was better to go for the full disguise. I was on board for the ink but she said I needed more. The hair was a rinse and I had contacts in.” 

“I'm here as her ‘gal pal,’” Kayo informs him, complete with air quotes. “I guess Gordon would have been the wrong kind of distraction.”

“Yeah, the press would have pounced on them. If Pen’s working, the last thing she needs is a bunch of camera lenses pointed in her direction.” He steps back, holding her hands away from her sides. “You look awesome. Is this her doing?”

Kayo doesn’t exactly blush, but she feels her cheeks warm. “Yes, some designer or other that she has on speed dial. One of them.” She feels a little silly, but she lets go of Virgil’s hands and rotates slowly for his inspection. The black dress she’s wearing tonight covers her from shoulder to knee, but it fits like a glove and leaves little to the imagination. One shoulder is bare, the other sleeveless, and there is a slender gold belt around her waist to match her four-inch ankle boots and the clutch she left back at the table. The outfit has been, to her surprise, quite comfortable. “I take it you approve?”

Her hair is down, and Virgil sifts the ends through his fingers. “Yes,” he murmurs, drawing her in close again and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder. “Absolutely.” He smirks at her. “Maybe I should get that designer’s number.”

Now she  _ does  _ blush. “Only if I have a place to wear their stuff,” she retorts. “Can’t wear an evening dress in the cockpit of TBS.”

He shrugs. “The world’s not on fire  _ all _ the time,” he remarks, but the reminder of their daily lives pushes into the private space between them, and both of them sober just a little. They both love what they do--all of them do, living for the thrill of snatching people from the jaws of death, basking in the glow of jobs well done and being humanity’s last hope when all else has failed. At the same time, they’re all aware how hard it is to have a private life when you’re out saving the world, and most of the time, they’re way too busy to dwell on such things. Still, she thinks, those questions will need answers _ someday... _

As these thoughts die away, she is becoming aware of Virgil’s hands, slipping from her shoulders and following the seams down her sides. The heels of his hands brush the soft outer curves of her breasts, and then he’s stepping closer and weighing them in his hands, thumbs brushing their sensitive peaks and bringing a gasp out of her. Kayo can’t help a glance over her shoulder at the milling crowd, but between the music and the shadows, no one is paying them the least bit of attention. Virgil’s fingers touch her face, bringing her gaze back to him in a silent command:  _ Eyes on me. Forget everything else. _

She smiles.  _ Yes.  _ For a moment, the rest of the world can deal with itself. The man she loves is right here, looking sharp and sexy, and he’s all she wants. The air in their corner is beginning to heat up, and she raises one knee, walling him in. Virgil growls low in his throat and catches the back of her knee in one hand, pushing the hem of her dress up her thigh and sliding his palm against her skin, going higher--

Suddenly there’s a prim little  _ ahem _ off to the side, and they jump apart like two teenagers caught making out at the school dance. Penelope is standing at the edge of the alcove, a sleepy-looking Sherbet in her arms, and a smug little smile on her face. “I think we’ve had about enough fun for one day,” she quips. “Shall we go?”

Back in FAB-1, the three members of International Rescue (plus Parker and one dog in a food coma) are on their way to Heathrow to retrieve Thunderbird Two from the unmarked IR hangar. Penelope turns to Virgil and Kayo with a smile. “Thank you both; you’ve been immensely helpful today.”

Kayo nods. “It was...interesting. I take it you were able to meet with your contact?”

Penelope waves a hand. “Oh, yes. That went off without a hitch.” She levels her bright blue gaze at Virgil, who goes slightly pink. “Speaking of  _ things coming off _ , that was impressive.” She raises an eyebrow. “You completely stole the show. Everyone was talking about you, wondering who you were and what rock you’d been hiding under.”

Kayo gives a snort of laughter. “So who’s going to tell Scott that you’re abandoning International Rescue to pursue a modeling career?” she asks Virgil, whose blush deepens.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “No way. Give me an earthquake or a landslide or a good old-fashioned in-flight emergency any day over that.”

As he is finishing his sentence, Penelope’s comm trills, and she flips open her compact. John’s ghostly image appears, hovering above her palm. “Hello, John. What can I do for you?”

“Lady Penelope, are Kayo and Virgil still with you?”

She nods. “Yes, we’re just about to drop them off at Thunderbird Two.”

His hands are moving, and Kayo and Virgil’s comms begin to buzz. “We have a situation.”

Penelope smiles. “So much for the world of high fashion.”

-end-


End file.
